


Jon and Ygritte

by saturninesunshine



Series: Right Face, Wrong Time [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Soulmate AU, Soulmate Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturninesunshine/pseuds/saturninesunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What's your name?" "Ygritte." Even when your soulmate's first words to you are inscribed on you in permanent ink, it's still kind of hard to see it at first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jon and Ygritte

**Author's Note:**

> Okay here's the soulmate AU. This will be a part of series, not all ASOIAF, but mostly.

They were strange words. That was the first thing that came to mind. She didn’t have time to think about it for the rest of the day. Just because it was Ygritte’s birthday didn’t mean the housemother was going to let her laze around all day. Not when there were chores to be done.

The one good thing about turning eighteen was that Ygritte could finally be out of the system. She was officially an adult. Not that anyone would acknowledge it or even remember it.

She had her rucksack packed for months. Tormund said he could give her a job at the sporting goods store. Maybe even learn how to use the bow and arrow that always stood behind plated glass on display. Sometimes kids would come and try the canoes in the summer. Since her life in the group home, it sounded heaven to her.

Ygritte was washing dishes after dinner when Val jumped up behind her.

“Well?”

Ygritte’s plan had been to sneak out that night. But she hadn’t told her only friend her plans of escape. Val had turned eighteen three months before but still hadn’t found an occupation that didn’t require taking her clothes off yet. Mother Dalla kept Val. It might have seemed like she was doing the girl a favor, but Ygritte knew better.

“Well, what?” Ygritte asked sharply. She didn’t want to talk about it.

“Happy birthday,” Val nudged her sharply in the ribs. It probably hurt Val’s elbow more than it hurt Ygritte’s ribcage.

Ygritte quickly looked around.

“What?” Val asked, picking up a plate to dry it. “Planning a jailbreak?”

Ygritte was quiet for a moment. The dishsoap was making her hands wrinkle. If she got a job at Tormund’s, she knew that at least he wouldn’t care.

“Oh,” Val said at Ygritte’s silence.

“I was gonna tell you.”

“I get it.” But Val was quiet for several long moments. 

“I think I might have found a job,” Ygritte said.

Val’s smile was tight.

“Come with me.”

This time, it was Val’s turn to look hastily around to make sure Dalla hadn’t overheard anything.

“Don’t be stupid,” Val said gruffly.

“We could do it,” Ygritte said. “I know Tormund wouldn’t mind. They took me in, right?” 

“I’m not like you,” Val said. “I’m not a survivor.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Ygritte asked. “We’re all survivors. And you’re going to survie this if I have to knock you out and drag you with me.”

Val finally grinned. “I didn’t pack any clothes.”

“Like you wear much, anyway,” Ygritte teased. Val slapped her foster sister playfully.

“ _I don’t hear dish washing.”_   Dalla’s voice came sharply from the TV room.

“So?” Val asked, quietly getting back to work as they talked. “I bet you got it, didn’t you? You’re being quiet.”

The change of topic was swift, but Ygritte still  knew what Val was referring to.

“Maybe I don’t want one,” Ygritte said stiffly. “It doesn’t matter what some supernatural ink on my body says.”

Val smiled. “You got it.”

Val never got a tattoo. Sometimes it worked that way. Some people woke up on their eighteenth birthday and realized they didn’t have soulmates. That didn’t mean that they wouldn’t have love in their lives. Ygritte couldn’t help but wonder if there was a strange and cruel god as there must be, maybe he just didn’t waste time on those who were doomed. 

So why was he wasting time on Ygritte?

“Later,” Ygritte said.

Val waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Despite having the world collapse around her, Val always had that tendency. Ygritte wasn’t sure if she would still even be here if it weren’t for her.

And despite the fact that Val didn’t have any ink, she still had people that loved her. Mostly men. Maybe that was the thing. There was the theory that those without ink had children to sustain them.

Val could have had a kid. But then she would have been kicked out of the system. The two of them had to do a lot of hocking to fix that problem. 

Maybe they had killed something else.

But Val couldn’t be bothered. Sometimes it seemed like she could. But she lifted Ygritte’s shirt that night, in search of the mystery words of who the love of her life would be.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” Val asked. “I know it is.”

They both knew it wasn’t.

“It’s embarrassing,” Ygritte said, swatting her hands away. “Totally weird.”

“Why?” Val asked. “Are the first words he’ll say to you lame?”

“No,” Ygritte said uncertainly. “Maybe. I don’t know. Guys that we know don’t really go around saying that stuff, though.”

“What stuff?” Val asked.

Ygritte sighed. She lifted her shirt. Curling on the curve of her stomach right above the waistband of her jeans were three simple words.

_What’s your name?_

Ygritte let her shirt drop.

“Huh,” Val said. “I mean how many guys have asked you that before? Maybe you already met him.”

“Not as many as you’d think,” Ygritte said. “Usually it’s ‘want to get in the backseat of my car?’ or ‘we’ll risk it,’ or ‘I can pull out.’ I don’t think any one of them have ever asked my name.”

That night Ygritte threw her duffle on the front lawn from the window.

She and Val were in Seattle in the next three days.

* * *

Jon Snow was hot.

Was that a euphemism? He wasn’t really sure. He thought this was the Pacific North West. Wasn’t it supposed to rain all the time there?

He supposed it didn’t really matter when he was wearing pounds of camo and lugging around a duffle bag. Sam had told him that this was the nearest sporting goods store and no one really got deployed out of Washington anyway.

“Do you have any boots?”

_Snap. Pop. Snap. Pop._

So went the gum of the cashier at the front.

“Uh, yeah. It’s a sporting goods store.”

Jon had never really been a spectacular conversationalist. Wasn’t this the polite thing?

“Just show the boy where the boots are, Val.”

The booming voice came from a red bearded giant near the heavy equipment. The blonde rolled her eyes.

“I was about to take my break.”

“Remind me again why I hired you,” the giant yelled back.

“I’m eye candy for the store,” Val bellowed back. “Or your weird paternal feelings.”

“Not for you,” the man snorted.

“Shut up."

Jon had taken a step back to get out of shouting distance.

“Tormund.” Jon hadn’t heard the man’s footfalls, despite his size. He looked down at the hand being offered. “My name’s on the sign.”

Jon took it.

“Combat training?” Tormund asked. 

Jon shrugged. 

“We’ll have you set up with someone competent,” he said pointedly. Val just rolled her eyes.

Tormund pointed in the back. “Aisle three.”

Jon began to trudge, but Tormund hauled his bag off the younger boy’s back. Jon stumbled, but regained his footing.

“Keep it safe for you." 

Jon didn’t feel anxiety about leaving the bag alone, for some reason. Maybe that should have been a warning sign.

Jon was struggling with his laces and a large box almost plowed into his face. His vision was blurry, but when he looked up, all he saw was red.

Val must have been on break. 

The girl didn’t wear a nametag – no one seemed to in this store – but he would never forget hair like that. However the store did seem to have some sort of dress code. She wore a flannel shirt with fraying jeans and black, scuffed boots.

She turned around without another word and Jon for the life of him could not understand what made him ask.

“What’s your name?”

The girl stopped sharply. She pivoted slowly around. She studied him for a moment and he was sure she really was going to walk away. 

When she did speak, it was slow and quiet, as though she didn’t know the answer to the question herself.

“Ygritte.”

Jon smiled, despite himself.

He liked that name.

She was still staring at him and he was starting to sweat.

“What’s yours?” she asked gruffly. She didn’t particularly sound like she wanted to know the answer. But in Jon’s experience, that’s how it usually was since the day he was born.

He glanced down quickly at his last name stitched on his uniform. She probably thought it was made up.

“Jon Snow.”

She gave him one last look and it seemed like the conversation was over.

But his father had taught him manners.

“It was nice to meet you." 

“You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

* * *

 

“He’s cute.”

If Val brought up the subject one more time, Ygritte was going to roll out of the moving car onto the highway. That was just the way it was.

“I’m sure girls would claw each other’s eyes to impale themselves onto him,” Ygritte said. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Why not?” Val asked. “He said it, didn’t he?”

“It’s a common question,” Ygritte said. “People ask it when you meet someone.”

“Not people you know,” Val said. “And that doesn’t really seem like boring get to know you stuff. He came onto you in a sporting goods store.”

“He did not come onto me,” Ygritte said. “He asked me my name. That’s it." 

“That’s it?” Val asked. “Why?”

“I don’t date guys in the army.” 

“I don’t think this qualifies as a date thing,” Val said. “Like you date anyway. What did you say?”

“When?”

“When he asked you your name.”

Ygritte took a breath. “I… told him.” 

“So somewhere this random puppydog-eyed soldier has Ygritte tattooed on him and you’re not going to give him the time of day?” Val asked.

“It isn’t him,” Ygritte said firmly. And since when did she care about soulmates anyway? When she wanted a man, she would have him. This curly haired child wasn’t going to make her change her mind.

“How do you know that?” Val asked. 

“Because a lot of people ask that question,” Ygritte repeated. “And if it were him, he would have recognized me when I said my name.”

Val gave her a knowing look. “You don’t care, huh?”

* * *

 

“I thought you were shipping out.”

Her cold steely eyes looks almost disappointed and Jon wanted to throw himself behind the shelf that Ygritte was stocking. At least she wasn’t near the equipment case.

Tormund’s wasn’t exactly the most relaxing place to hang out.

_“Val, get to work or I swear, I will marry you!”_

_“You wish!”_

Either Ygritte didn’t hear the shouting match across the store, or she was so used to it, it didn’t bother her anymore.

As if it ever did. Jon couldn’t imagine the scrappy employee to ever be intimidated by anything.

Jon just held up a box, still mumbling about boots.

Ygritte snatched the box away from his hands to inspect. 

“They didn’t fit?”

“They fit.”

“Man of few words,” Ygritte said with irritation before looking at the box again. “Your feet can’t possibly be this big.”

Jon just shrugged, feeling the humiliating burn on his cheeks.

He didn’t want to know what the raise of the girl’s eyebrows meant.

Ygritte crossed her arms and leaned her lanky body against one of the shelves.

“ _Tormund_ ,” she yelled over her shoulder and Jon flinched. He was sure that was the first time he had seen her smile. If it could be called that. It was more of a smirk, and the wicked glint in her eyes made him nervous. “ _Are we out of stock of the army regulation combat boots?_ ”

Tormund came barreling around the corner. 

“You back again, boy?” 

He gave Ygritte a side-glance that she promptly ignored. Jon hoped to god she wasn’t noticing his reddening face. 

Ygritte tossed the box to Tormund’s chest. He caught it.

“You bring these back?” Tormund asked. “Are they too big?” 

“No,” Jon stuttered, trying disparately to avoid Ygritte’s gaze. 

Tormund looked between the two of them before throwing his hands up. Jon wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean either – until Ygritte dragged him into the stock room.

Her hands were down his pants before he could think what was where. It was such a surprise that he slammed his head into the back wall.

“You’d think a girl had never touched your cock before.”

Jon sputtered, not sure if he should zip up his pants or not.

“A guy, then?” 

“No!”

“It’s just a question.”

Jon was sure that he was seeing the real Ygritte for the first time, but that was the only thought left in his head. After that, everything went white. 

When Jon finally stumbled out of the closet, Ygritte looked like she always did. She was working the register and didn’t look at him again.

He came by twice the next week, but he never saw her.

* * *

 

“The storeroom?”

Ygritte shrugged. Val wasn’t the prudish type and Ygritte was never the type to be ashamed.

“It’s not like I’m going to be fired for it.”

“Was it good?”

Ygritte shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“Yeah, you’ve had worse,” Val laughed, a little too loudly.

Ygritte glared. 

“So was it him?”

Ygritte stretched shipping tape over the box. It screeched in protest.

“Ygritte.”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“You girls working?” Tormund always sounded gruff, but Ygritte never had to worry about losing her job.

“No,” Val said without hesitation. 

“If that boy shows up again, I’m going to have to start paying him,” Tormund said. “And you know I don’t like to have to pay people.”

“Maybe you should go back to your wife, then,” Val said dryly.

Tormund cast her an unamused look, but centered back on Ygritte.

“What boy?” Ygritte asked. 

“Your boy.”

“He’s not _mine_ —“ 

Tormund grinned.

“What, he’s still here?”

“From what happened in the storeroom…” Tormund started.

“You practically filmed us in there,” Ygritte said in reply.

“I am an equal opportunity supplier,” Tormund said.

“He said he was shipping out,” Ygritte said.

“Did he, though?” Val chimed in. “Did he ever actually say that?”

“Maybe he wants to marry you,” Tormund suggested.

“If I thought he wasn’t leaving tomorrow, do you really think I would have had my way with him?” Ygritte grumbled.

“I never pretend to know what you’ll do next,” Tormund said. “Stock the tent poles.”

* * *

 

Ygritte watched him from around the corner. He was still wearing the stupid jacket and even the sight of him made her insides boil with not very well restrained anger. Finally she walked out onto the street and next to him on the bench where he sat.

“You’re still here.”

He looked startled and confused. He had that expression a lot, it seemed. There was no duffle but he was wearing the combat boots.

“Those really do fit you.”

Jon blushed harder than when he was inside of her.

“Don’t you have some war to get shot up in?”

“I wanted to ask you out," he said hastily. 

It was so unexpected, she almost missed it. She was sure that she was the one that looked confused now. He had said it so fast as though he had been reciting the words and couldn’t get them out fast enough.

“How old are you?” Ygritte asked. She hadn’t seen any ink on him. That was something that hadn’t really occurred to her. Then again, she hadn’t been looking very hard at the time.

Still, she was sure he was able to count.

“Seventeen.”

The first thing that occurred to her was that this kid didn’t know who his soulmate was yet. But then there was the close second.

“How are you enlisted at seventeen?”

Jon looked at the ground and that worried her. “Just am.”

This kid was lying to the US government. 

She liked that way too much. She was starting to like him.

“Why would I go out with you?” Ygritte asked sharply.

There was that confused look again. “We had sex.”

Poor, boy.

“That lasted about forty-five seconds.” 

Those stupid puppy dog eyes. 

Ygritte sighed. “I’ve still had worse.”

She didn’t think it was possible to see the guy’s eyes light up like that.

“You better be able to drive.”

* * *

 

When he said ‘date,’ this was not what he had in mind. Ygritte knew that. In fact, he was fairly certain that Ygritte had never been on a date herself before. That made former virgins out of them both, he supposed.

“So where are we going?”

Val’s head popped up from the backseat and Jon suppressed as a groan as he drove. Ygritte didn’t respond, gazing out the window as rain pattered the windows.

“What is she doing here?” Jon asked again. This time there was that glint in her eyes again, but Ygritte suppressed the smile.

“I don’t know you,” Ygritte said. “You could be a murderer or something.”

“I’m sure if I was a murderer you wouldn’t need your friend to protect you.”

Ygritte’s eyes were unwavering. “Why do you say that?” 

“From the minimal contact I’ve had with you?” Jon asked. There had been those few seconds in the dark where she had used her nails. “Just a shot in the dark.”

“This show better be good.”

“Or you’ll take my ear for your collection, got it.”

For a moment he thought he saw her smile. But he was sure it must have been his imagination. 

“Do you two want the back seat?” Val piped up.

“It’s all yours,” Ygritte replied.

“You are not having sex in here with whatever tattooed biker you find in there,” Jon warned.

“Why?” Ygritte asked. “Daddy can’t buy you another car for every day of the week?”

“No,” Jon said. “He can’t.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t a surprise that as soon as they entered the bar, Val spotted her first victim.

“I think your chaperone just made off with the bartender.” 

“ _Chaperone_ ,” Ygritte echoed. “You grew up in a fancy household, didn’t you?” She could hear it in the cadence of his words and the way he held himself. He probably never even heard of the street she lived on.

“Did you?” Jon sounded offended. The boy was sort of sensitive. 

“You think I would be where I am if I was?”

“Maybe you like it.” 

“Like scrounging for pennies in the sofa cushions?” Ygritte asked bitterly. “Foster care really prepared me for adult life.” 

“Maybe you like living in a community of people that accept you,” Jon said. “Maybe Tormund isn’t your blood father or brother. But at least he cares.” 

“You’re family doesn’t?” she asked. 

He paused, thinking for a moment. “My sister.” Jon finally smiled. “My sister was different.”

“You left it all behind?” Ygritte asked.

“I didn’t have a choice.” His face was drawn in its usual dour expression now.

“You’re a sunny fellow, aren’t you,” Ygritte remarked.

“So?” Jon asked. “I didn’t put a gun to your head. Why are you here?”

“Because if you were that sunny, I wouldn’t be interested,” Ygritte said. She started off in the crowd to get a table near the front of the stage. She felt Jon’s reassuring presence at her back. 

Reassuring because she was getting a better picture, no matter how dangerous that was. The fell into silence and waited for the show to begin. He wasn't drinking. With a face like that, she was sure he would get carded. The first act was just a guy with an acoustic guitar plugged into the sound-system. But Jon yelled the louder than any of them. Val finally returned and collapsed into a chair.

“What’s happening?” she asked before she looked at the guy in the leather jacket strumming into the microphone. “Oh, he’s hot.” 

“Do you know him?” Ygritte asked, her attention directed at Jon.

“One of my friends,” Jon said, surprising her. She hadn't expected that. Or to be surprised by him at all. Ygritte had the impression that Jon didn’t really have any friends. But she supposed there was Sam, the guy that Jon had arrived in town with. Like she had Val.

Though, she hadn’t heard about Sam since the first day she met Jon and he never made any mention of it again. 

“You have other friends?”

Jon glared at her, but she never felt threatened by it, returning his look with a smile. Whenever he tried to be stern with her, she wanted to laugh. _Cute_ didn’t enter in it. It shouldn’t even be a consideration. It didn’t matter, remember? 

But they guy got off the stage after a few songs and Ygritte understood that he was barely an opening act. More the opening act to the opening act. Jon got up from the table and before she knew what was happening, the two barreled into each other. Jon clapped the guy on the back. For once, Ygritte found herself standing off to the side, not really sure how to proceed.

“Gendry,” Jon said in a way that Ygritte wasn’t sure if she could classify as happily. Maybe as happy as Jon could get. “How’s the tour?” Tour was a strange way to look at it, Ygritte thought. But nothing about tonight was what she expected anyway.

“Banging on doors and begging them to pay me,” Gendry said. “Living the dream.”

Gendry pointed to the bar. Jon nodded as his friend went to get a drink. He seemed the type to be able to pass for older. Not a trait that Jon possessed. She wouldn't have been surprised if female bartenders - or more likely the gay ones - threw his drinks at him for free. Neither she or Jon missed Val treating the new piece of meat not so secretly.

“Well I can see why you two are friends,” Ygritte said. Off of Jon’s look she said, “you are two of the most miserable people I have ever met.”

“Our dads were friends,” Jon said. “And we both had mothers we didn’t know.” At least he was still smiling. Sort of.

Ygritte couldn’t understand how Jon could talk about his family like that. She had a sketchy idea of mistreatment, but he seemed he at least grew up with a gather that supported him and brothers and sisters that loved him.

“What’s he doing all the way out here?” Ygritte asked. From what she gathered, Jon lived farther out east.

“Supporting his grand lifestyle,” Jon said dryly. She liked Jon more when he wasn’t dull.

“And what does that army do?”

He didn’t look wounded this time. Just solemn. She would have to wipe that look off his face.

“Is she a friend of yours?” Gendry had chugged his drink and walked over to them, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder at Val who seemed to have followed him to the bar.

“Why?” Ygritte asked. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Gendry looked to the ground and blushed furiously. Ygritte could see why the two were friends. 

“You shouldn’t have a problem if you know where to put it,” Ygritte said, casting a sly glance at Jon. “Unlike your friend.”

“I know where to put it,” Jon said uncomfortably. He caught Ygritte’s eyes and saw that she was smiling. He almost seemed to thaw a little.

“So what are you still doing here anyway?” Gendry asked, changing the subject. “I thought you were supposed to ship out three weeks ago."

Ygritte stared at him.

* * *

 

Some alone time with Gendry was warranted in this situation, Jon thought. He didn't really give Ygritte a choice as he pulled his friend from the crowd. It wasn't really Gendry's fault. He didn't know. But this wasn't exactly how and when he wanted this information to get out. 

“Were you ever enlisted? _”_  Gendry asked as they spoke in a secluded corner. His question didn’t sound accusatory. He just sounded worried.

 _“_ Yes. I was going to. The bus came here for the night and I just… didn’t get back on.” 

Gendry took this in. “Why?”

The muscles in Jon’s back tensed. He could almost feel Ygritte’s gaze penetrate him from across the bar. Val seemed to be speaking to her but Ygritte was just stirring her drink vigorously.

 _“_ How’s my sister? _”_ Jon asked instead, turning his attention back.

“How do you think?” Gendry sighed. “She misses you.” 

Jon couldn’t even imagine. Gendry traveled around and basically lived out of dumpsters, but he had no parents. Ned said Arya could do whatever she wanted with her life after eighteen. But before then, she was under pain of death not allowed to follow Gendry around with her drum kit.

Jon was fairly certain that under pain of death that Arya would also be attending college, but he knew how difficult his little sister could be. He could almost hear his father’s exasperation with her now. He would say whatever he could to placate his most difficult child. 

“You take care of her, yeah?”

Gendry sighed again. Jon knew he was exasperating him, but when it came to Arya, he just had to make sure. “Come on, man.” 

“Really.”

“Really,” Gendry affirmed. It wasn't even a question. Of course he was. She was his good friend's little sister. “It’s a little too late for that now.”

“You turned eighteen a few months ago, right?” 

Gendry looked uncertain at Jon's sudden question. "Yeah."

“And?” Jon asked.

"And what?" Gendry asked. _And nothing_ should have ended the conversation, but Jon was determined. “We don’t have to get into that.”

“So you have the tattoo,” Jon said.

“You sound like Arya.” If Gendry was exasperated now, Jon couldn't imagine what it was like with his little sister's constant stream of nonstop questions must be like.

“ _And_?”

“And you shouldn’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried,” Jon said. “Just curious.”

Gendry lowered the collar of his wife beater to show the words inked across his chest.

“Mean anything to you?” Jon asked. “Do you know who it is?” 

“No,” Gendry answered.

* * *

 

“When were you supposed to ship out?”

Val was collapsed into a seat after her fifth vodka gimlet, but Ygritte was as sober as ever. Jon didn’t think he had ever seen her take a drink.

“Does it matter?”

Ygritte’s nails bit into his arm so hard he almost had to shake her off.

“Yeah. It matters.”

He wanted to ask _why_. Her eyes were sharp and probing and he knew that not answer the question would in all likelihood cost him his life. 

“Almost a month.” 

Ygritte was the type, he was sure, to have no qualms with just knocking him out right there.

Instead, she grabbed his hand and dragged him through the crowd towards the exit. 

It didn’t take long for them to make it back to Ygritte’s place. 

Jon couldn’t really make out Ygritte’s bedroom in the darkness. Val hadn’t gone with them and Jon was sure that had been the redhead’s plan all along. She didn’t bring him back to look at her room. 

Maybe take a look at her ceiling…

Her hands shoved his chest hard and he fell against her bed.

“I’m going to teach you a few things, Jon Snow.”

* * *

 

It lasted longer that time. But that was all about Jon knew. Ygritte had been lying in the darkness silently for a concerning amount of time. He supposed he could just pretend that she was asleep and fall asleep himself. But last time was a mere disaster and he couldn’t assume that she would be okay with that.

Maybe he should just leave.

Would that be better? He couldn’t remember his decision as he descended towards sleep, wondering or not if she was going to do the same.

“You do that to all your girlfriend’s?”

Ygritte’s voice cut through the darkness and Jon forcefully pulled himself out of unconsciousness. 

“Do what?” he asked.

He could practically feel her hard look in the darkness.

“Does that mean you’re my girlfriend?” he asked.

“Why would it mean that?” Ygritte asked indifferently.

“You’re the one who asked.”

He felt a chill and he was sure that she had left him in her bed until her mouth was hot against his neck.

“So?” she pressed. “Where’d you learn it?”

“I didn’t,” Jon said.

 _HBO?_ he thought to himself.

He paused before speaking again. “There’s only ever been you.” 

“A virgin.” Her voice was laughing and this was exactly why he didn’t want to divulge that particular information. “I thought as much.” 

She wasn’t laughing anymore.

“You seemed to like it,” Jon snapped back.

“Maybe,” she said coyly. “Why’d you do it?”

“I don’t know,” Jon shrugged. “I just wanted to kiss you there. Has no one ever—“ 

“No,” Ygritte cut him off. “Only you.” 

The next part was so quiet he thought maybe she hadn’t said it at all. 

“You’re not like the others.”

Jon liked the sound of that, but Ygritte was a serpent in the grass. At any moment she could lull him into a false sense of security before striking. 

“You’re stronger than them,” Ygritte said, her voice distant as though lost in a dream. “Better.” 

“Did they hurt you?” Jon ventured. He still wanted to know everything about her. 

“I’d cut their throats before they could,” Ygritte said warningly. 

“I know that,” Jon said. Maybe she would do the same to him.

“You’re just good, Jon Snow.”

Maybe not.

“How old are you?” Jon asked. 

“Don’t you know it’s impolite to ask a lady’s age?” Ygritte said playfully.

“Since when are you a lady?”

She punched him hard in the right shoulder, but he took it gladly and happily.

“I’m an adult,” Ygritte said. “Unlike some. You could have me arrested, Jon Snow.”

“I’d never turn you in,” he grinned. “So… do you have the tattoo?”

She was quiet and he knew instantly it was a mistake. Maybe it was too soon to get into that yet. But he couldn't help but ask. He didn't care. He just wanted to know everything about her.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Jon said hastily. “I don’t either.”

“You’re not eighteen yet,” Ygritte said quietly.

Jon lay back on the pillows. Had he thought for a moment that Ygritte might not be yet? Maybe he had.

Maybe it didn’t matter. 

“Maybe I’ll keep you.” Ygritte’s arm curled around his.

Maybe he had forgotten all of his questions altogether.

* * *

 

“If you’re boy’s going to work here, I’m going to have to lock the storeroom.”

Ygritte had just tossed a box cutter at Jon’s head, threatening to shear off his pretty locks. Tormund seemed more against in-store shenanigans since he didn’t just have female employees.

“We haven’t done that in ages,” Ygritte said indignantly. 

“If you think that Ygritte can lift the canoes on those scrawny shoulders alone, then maybe you don’t need me after all,” Jon winked.

“I’m not scrawny.” Ygritte aimed a kick at Jon’s shins, which he dodged expertly.

“Just don’t break anything.” It was Tormund’s mantra. But the big man could never admit that it was beneficial to have an ex-army recruit working for him. “Get back to work.” 

As long as Tormund could lawfully say that his back was turned, Jon and Ygritte could stock shelves together. He was a better employee than Val anyway.

Jon chucked a box at Ygritte in the back that she caught deftly. He watched her reach onto the high shelf, stretching her little body.

Her jeans hung low and when he saw the flash of flesh of her stomach, Jon suddenly realized that his birthday was in two days.

He would officially be an adult and could legally enlist in the army. But that wasn’t a life that he wanted anymore. He had been searching for a family his entire life and he didn’t need the armed forces to do that anymore.

But any time he brought something like that up with Ygritte, she would dance around it.

“Instead of throwing things at me, we should talk about what you’re going to do the day you officially become a man,” Ygritte winked at him.

“I thought we took care of that months ago,” he threw back at her. 

She smiled but he knew that Ygritte always had him with the lights off. Or him behind her. Or with her shirt on. Or under the covers. Maybe it didn’t match up, but maybe he couldn’t bring himself to question it.

He hated himself for it, but he had to know. Ygritte would cut his hand off if she found him lifting her shirt in her sleep. And there it was, black scrawled over her flesh. 

He still had no idea what it meant.

“Are you going to call your sister?”

Every since Ygritte had seen a video that Bran sent to Jon on his phone of Arya slamming the drums, she had clung to the younger girl.

“It’s my birthday, shouldn’t she be calling me?”

“You know she would be here if she could,” Ygritte said. 

“Arya isn’t allowed to cross the country on her own for obvious reasons,” Jon said. “Catelyn would have an aneurysm if she thought her youngest daughter was coming out to see her bastard brother with her bastard best friend.” 

“Maybe she just doesn’t want her daughter traveling alone with a boy with no supervision.” 

“Why?” Jon asked. “It’s just Gendry.”

Ygritte shrugged.

“And since when are the expert on parental influence?”

“You never know, Jon Snow,” Ygritte said. “I might just trap you.”

“It wouldn’t be a trap.” 

Tormund liked to say to everyone that Jon and Ygritte were ghetto married. It was all but official except for being legal and everything. Jon always thought that Ygritte would smack her own boss for remarks like that. 

But somehow, Ygritte didn’t seem to mind.

That made Jon feel every more guilty.

That was before he saw the telltale signs of a small tornado in their kitchen. Jon stopped short as Ygritte closed the door behind them.

Gendry had laid down his case and that was enough confirmation for Jon to understand Ygritte’s attempt at a surprise. Arya came barreling out of his room and jumped on Gendry’s back, her arms around his neck and bearing her teeth at her older brother.

Jon could tell the wind was knocked out of him but Gendry just grinned, hoisting her legs further up his back so she didn’t fall and galloping around the apartment per Arya's instruction.

Jon gave Ygritte an accusatory glance. “This is your fault.”

He turned to Arya, still making Gendry carry her around.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t eighteen,” Jon said sternly to his little sister. Finally Arya slid to the ground, her feet hitting the floor solidly.

“No, that would be you,” she said cheerfully. She then flung her arms around her brother’s neck. He couldn’t help but but hugging her back.

“Does your mother know you're here?” 

“Dad said I could,” Arya said. “He wanted to be here himself.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Arya shrugged. “She’ll figure it out." 

“Arya.” Jon rounded on Gendry. “You’re supposed to be the adult here.”

Arya scoffed. “He’s not an adult. Don’t make him feel old.”

“He is old.”

“So are you.” Arya stuck her tongue out at Jon.

“Arya, you’re fifteen,” Jon said in exasperation. 

Arya looked at Ygritte. “He just did a horribly accurate imitation of our father.” 

“Don’t worry,” Gendry insisted. “Arya just wanted to come down and bake you a cake. I’ll be with her the whole time.”

Jon didn’t know why that bothered him. 

“You can’t come to the bar,” Jon replied.

“You’re no fun,” Arya said, slumping on the couch. “You’re not even officially eighteen yet anyway. Like they would serve you even if you were.”

Ygritte grabbed Jon around the waist. “Lucky he’s got connections.”

Arya smiled broadly.

Jon knew it was a mistake introducing the two of them.

* * *

 

Jon was a buzzkill. But Ygritte knew that. And she knew that maybe that’s what she liked so much about him.

And not just that. 

It was what scared her inside. Something she never asked for, but was given all the same. It was etched permanently across her flesh and he still didn’t know about it.

She could taste the wine on his breath but the way he held her, she knew that he was suffering far worse from the vodka that was on hers.

“Careful.”

They had stumbled home from the bar due to a text from Val with another plea to pick her up after walking out on her new guy. Maybe Ygritte was getting old, but she just wanted to put Jon to bed. She twisted in his arms on the doorstep.

“You’ll have to carry me, Jon Snow.”

He suffered another one of her sloppy kisses but smiled all the same.

“You don’t need me to carry you.”

No one ever carried her. 

“Maybe I want you too.”

She tripped over her ankles in front of the door and suddenly her legs were swept from beneath her.

They made it inside and Jon let her feet gently touch the ground. Arya’s lopsided cake was half-eaten in the kitchen and the room was dark. Jon’s eyes narrowed to the two lumps on the couch. Lying in opposite directions, both Gendry and Arya were unconscious. His arms were wrapped around her legs, using them as a pillow as the young girl practically laid half off the couch and half on the floor. 

Ygritte took his hand and led him into the bedroom.

“Hush, now,” Ygritte said.

“Her mother is going to murder me.” 

“It isn’t like they fucked,” Ygritte said. “Is that what you’re afraid of?”

But Jon’s eyes were cloudy and she was startled to realize that she really couldn’t read them. Jon’s mouth was on her, but he had pulled away almost as fast as he had touched her.

“I’m sorry.”

Ygritte was dizzy and steadied herself on the wall, unable to process what he was apologizing for.

“I saw it.”

Jon was still mumbling. “I looked. I know.”

Ygritte took a deep breath. “And what is it that you think you know?”

“I bet a lot of people have asked you for your name,” Jon said. There was no other conclusion to come to, was there? Otherwise she would have told him. She wouldn’t have cared if he saw it or not if it had been him.

So did that mean she knew who it was? Was there some guy walking around with her words inked on him?

“Hey.” Her nails bit into the flesh of his face as she held it, making him look into her eyes. “The only thing that matters to you and me is you and me. Got it?”

He had never heard her say it that way before. 

“You’re mine and I’m yours,” Ygritte said firmly. “Okay?" 

“Okay.”

Her tongue forced his mouth open and he took off her shirt. He lost sense of all reason and against the dresser, fucked her like it was his last night in this world.

* * *

 

Ygritte pressed her forehead against the window. In a moment between sobriety and complete oblivion, she could be happy. She could feel the trees and the stars fly by the window and she took a deep breath.

She had her man driving the car and her best friend passed out in the back seat and for a moment, everything was alright.

Lampposts flashed by the windows as Jon accelerated the car. Ygritte leaned over him impulsively and kissed him. He kissed her back quickly before gently pushing her away.

“What are you doing?” Luckily he was infinitely more sober than Ygritte was at this time of night, but his voice was still fond. “Don’t make me crash this car.”

“Happy birthday, Jon Snow.”

“Can we hit Sonic? I think I’m about to throw up.” Val’s voice grumbled from the backseat.

“You’re not throwing up in the back of this car,” Jon said warningly.

“You like this car more than me,” Val pouted.

“Can you blame him?” Ygritte asked laughingly. “You’re lucky he’s our designated driver." 

“Yeah, I’ve heard it all,” Val said, rolling down the window. “Perfect, gentlemanly, sober, sensitive Jon Sno—“

The tree branch came out of nowhere. 

The last thing he thought of before the car flipped was turning to Ygritte and asking _you really say that about me_? 

* * *

 

Jon dragged himself against the pavement, graveling digging into his forearms. The only light came from the open car door and fallen power line.

She was coughing when he finally reached her. He felt blood pulse from her head and she reached out, smearing it away. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay it’s okay.”

She just kept saying it and it made Jon realize that he was crying. Blood gurgled from her mouth as the steering column stuck out of her chest. He didn’t know what to do.

“It’s not,” Jon said.

_It’s not._

He held her cradling her head. Her fingers dug into him as a spasm of pain ripped through her. But she smiled through her bloody teeth.

Even now she was beautiful. She would always be, to him.

“It is,” Ygritte insisted. 

Jon kept shaking his head. Val was unconscious on the other side of the road. Out of everyone, he didn’t know why he was always the one to survive. Sirens sounded in the night.

“You’re mine,” Ygritte said, pulling her fingers through his hair. “Do you know that? You’re mine as I’m yours.”

Dread filled Jon’s chest so painfully he thought he might burst. But he knew he couldn’t understand all of what it meant just yet.

“I know,” he burst out.

“All men must die, Jon Snow,” she said. Jon squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bear her words. “But you’ll live. First, you’ll live.”

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. 

“I’m yours.” 

He wasn’t sure if she heard him.

Her hand dropped from his hair.

_First we’ll live._

* * *

 

When he pulled himself back into their apartment, the morning light was starting to come through the windows. He had lost all sense of time. He was assaulted with everything he couldn’t process at the time. The couch was empty but he couldn’t find it in himself to question it. The place still smelled of her.

Her archery stuff locked in the case.

The vintage posters that covered the walls.

Their bed.

He pulled himself into the sheets, rolling in them until he fell asleep.

When he awoke, for a moment, he had forgotten that she was gone. He could still smell her.

He had forgotten what day it was.

When he peeled off his shirt, he remembered.

The next day, he took Val’s car and drove Arya all the way home. They didn’t speak for the entire drive, but he could feel his sister’s look. They always seemed to know what the other was thinking, even now.

They never spoke of it. There, across his shoulder was one word, permanently inscribed on his shoulder. 

 _Ygritte_.


End file.
